


Icarus

by Tinytokki



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Artists, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Gift Fic, Hongjoong and Yeosang are winged warriors, Quests, Seonghwa is a bit prejudiced, Social Commentary, Theft, Wingfic, Woosan chaos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28319283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinytokki/pseuds/Tinytokki
Summary: As a starving artist newly commissioned with the deep-pocket project of a lifetime, Seonghwa has no intentions of jeopardising his position. Especially not by doing anything as insane and illegal as harbouring an outlawed winged warrior in the storage closet of his apartment.But his bleeding-heart roommates have something else to say about it and an unlucky encounter snowballs into a quest that may not just claim his future, but his very life.It’s all San’s fault.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	1. The Golden Book

**Author's Note:**

  * For [boxysmiles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/boxysmiles/gifts).



> Merry Christmas Kayla!! Should I have checked that you don’t already have any wingfics before committing to this storyline? Absolutely! Did I totally forget to do so? Also yes! Here’s hoping it’s different enough and you’ll like it. I couldn’t do a oneshot no matter how hard I tried but the updates will be daily so it should be finished by the new year. 
> 
> Anyone else reading this— enjoy!

Secretly, and buried so deeply inside that Seonghwa would not acknowledge it, was a tremendous love for magical things. It was evident in his work, the careful detail applied to fantastic scenes and mythical creatures that were carved into stone and painted onto canvases.

The underbelly of the museum was quiet and cold, and the stare of the avian he was chipping away at pierced into him. It was a battle scene, the new centrepiece for the main hall and one that screamed the law of the land— from the strong posture of the soldier to the spear that impaled the avian.

He didn’t mean to make the winged warrior look so betrayed. Avians were the enemy, a race of angelic beings whose ideas had become too extreme for the unstable world. Even now they terrorised the city every once in awhile and one could never be too sure when they would pop out of hiding.

But Seonghwa was being paid for art, not necessarily historical accuracy, so if the broken wings and bloody feathers screamed victimhood, he would simply accept it and move on.

The chime of a notification from his phone distracted him into turning his head and carefully lowering his tools.

That was Wooyoung’s ringtone.

As quickly as he could without knocking something over, Seonghwa crossed the splattered tarp he had set down on the floor and hurried over to check the message, turning down the volume on the radio that sat atop the bench next to him.

If Wooyoung was texting him now, it could be anything from fire in the apartment to a homework assignment gone wrong. Especially if San was with him.

_ Did you finish the rest of the Chinese? _

So they were having leftovers tonight.

Seonghwa couldn’t help but roll his eyes fondly. It didn’t sound like anyone was dying, but the roommate wars were still going, as they had been since the three of them had moved in together.

_ It wasn’t me, ask San. _

After a moment, a response popped up with a frowning emoticon attached.

_ San says it wasn’t him :< _

With a sigh, Seonghwa sent one last message and began to pack up his supplies.  _ He’s lying then. If he won’t regurgitate it for you, have the bibimbap in the fridge. _

All this talk of food was making him hungry and since the sun was well below the skyline, Seonghwa decided to wrap up and save the rest of the sculpture for the weekend.

The thought of warmth from the stove and the softness of his bed enticed him and kept him distracted as he wandered back upstairs and through the marble galleries, shutting off lights as he went. He was usually the last to leave.

It wasn’t until someone walked by, brushing him in the shoulder, that he came back to himself and realised something was wrong.

“Excuse me,” he stuttered. “But we’re closed, you shouldn’t be in here.”

The stranger continued walking ahead of him as if he hadn’t heard and Seonghwa repeated himself louder.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t— _excuse me!”_

It seemed now that this person wasoutright ignoring him, so Seonghwa jogged up and placed a hand on his shoulder, hopefully not too harshly, after all it could be a mistake...

The piercing gold eyes that met his nearly immobilised him. Again Seonghwa opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words.

It was a man, probably around his age, but with fluffy blond hair, almost so light it was white and long enough in the back that it reached the collar of his trench coat, bright eyes that were practically pools of liquid gold, and the sternest expression on his face that somehow didn’t detract from his beauty in the slightest.

“Sir, the museum is closed,” Seonghwa finally said, without any of his earlier frustration. His voice echoed menacingly off the polished walls. “You’ll have to come back tomorrow. And how did you even get in anyway?”

The stranger shifted out of Seonghwa’s hold and that was when he noticed something else that was off. The way the coat moved on him, especially the way it bunched up in the back, looked almost like...

“You’re an avian!” Seonghwa realised with a strangled gasp, stumbling back another step and quickly fishing out his phone and pressing speed dial.

He had never seen one before that he knew of, but he had been taught how to handle situations like this. Call the police and then run.

But the avian had wriggled out of his grasp and was already dashing toward the exit, as if he had been caught stealing something.

Of course, Seonghwa knew avians were dangerous and vengeful but it was likely the blond had museum property in his possession, and someone had to stall him while the police were on their way.

He barked out his location and situation into the phone when the operator asked him, all while pursuing the winged stranger through the halls. He’d ditched the coat and extended his wings, the fluffy white feathers close in colour to his hair.

The wingspan was very broad and he had to keep them somewhat tucked to fit through doorways but focused more on the satchel he was clutching.

Whatever was in there, it didn’t belong to him.

Assured the Defence Directorate were on their way, Seonghwa hung up and sprinted harder, reaching out and grabbing a handful of white feathers to yank the man back around.

Failing to control his momentum, Seonghwa barrelled right into him and the two sprawled out on the floor at the top of the main staircase. They were painstakingly close to the exit, but approaching sirens could already be heard. Help was on the way.

In the struggle, the satchel went flying down the steps and immediately the two were fighting each other to get to it. The avian had the advantage with superior strength and powerful wings, so Seonghwa was unsurprised when he was pinned down, but the sound of approaching footsteps gave him enough of a jolt of hope to crane his neck and check who it was.

Another man stood there below the entry arch, hair a much darker brown than the avian’s, and as he took in the situation, iridescent wings of his own sprouted out from under his jacket.

So there were two of them.

“Get the bag!” The first avian yelled down to him, making Seonghwa wince with the force of his hold.

The other man obeyed but hesitated when his avian friend made no move to follow him.

“Yeosang, come on!” He called anxiously, glancing back through the doors when the sirens suddenly came to a stop. The Defence Directorate was already here.

“There’s no time,” the avian pinning Seonghwa, Yeosang as the other had referred to him, insisted with a touch of sadness. “You have to go. I’ll take care of this.”

The other avian looked like he wanted to protest but met Yeosang’s eyes like they were silently speaking to each other and left without another word.

“What did you steal?” Seonghwa ground out, eyes following the fleeing avian until he was out of sight. 

“The Golden Book is ours,” Yeosang growled back, procuring a dagger from somewhere and pressing it to his opponent’s neck. “It was taken from my people, we can’t steal what already belongs to us.”

For the first time in this insanely whirlwind, blood-pumping encounter, Seonghwa felt the ice cold fear of death settle in his stomach.

Light from the entryway glinted off the dagger. The irony was not lost on him that the very sculpture he’d been crafting depicted a reverse of this situation. This was the end.

“Put your hands up!”

A gruff yell echoed through the main hall and the pressure lifted off of Seonghwa’s chest while the avian was dragged to his feet.

When his eyes let themselves crack open, an officer was holding out his hand and two others were restraining a struggling Yeosang.

“H-His accomplice—” Seonghwa gasped out, pointing the direction he had gone when the man had helped him up. “He got away with the Golden Book.”

Without a second thought, the officer drew his gun and ran out into the street to chase the criminal. Still shaken, Seonghwa watched the other two taser Yeosang into submission, his great white wings falling limp and retracting uselessly.

He couldn’t help but cringe at the jarring zap sound and the way the avian cried out in pain. When they had him secured, one of the officers came over to introduce himself.

“I’m Song Mingi, my colleague here is Jeong Yunho and our squad leader who just ran recklessly into the night is Choi Jongho.”

He stuck out his hand genially and Seonghwa shook it, confused by this man’s unflappable cheer in the face of an attack by a terrifying and awful creature of power.

Right on cue, a gunshot went off outside, sending Seonghwa’s heart leaping again and making Mingi’s face fall.

“Stay here,” he instructed, pushing him back onto the steps while he followed out the doors, leaving Yunho to guard Yeosang, who was bound and shoved to the ground as well.

The avian prisoner had pure fear in his eyes at the bang of the gun being so close, and not until Mingi and Jongho returned empty handed did any of them relax.

“He got away... with the Book,” Jongho explained. “But I managed to clip him in the wing so he can’t have gotten far.”

All business, Jongho took charge of the prisoner and drove off to pursue the wounded avian while Yunho and Mingi hung back to make sure Seonghwa was alright.

“Would you mind showing us where the Book was kept?” Yunho asked gently, Seonghwa lifting his head from where it rested in his hands to get a look at him.

Both officers were quite tall and broad, Yunho with blue hair and Mingi with red. They were dressed the part of a Directorate officer but looked around Seonghwa’s age as well with a distinctly youthful air about them, and when they exchanged birth dates he learned they were in fact both a year younger, with their boss Jongho being the youngest of them.

“It’s just here,” Seonghwa sighed on arrival at the golden room. It was the area of the museum where they displayed ancient avian artefacts- mostly armour and furniture and that sort of thing, but the nucleus of the room was the Golden Book stand, previously encased in glass which now lay shattered across the floor.

“It must have happened while I was working downstairs,” Seonghwa whispered mournfully. “I was blasting music, like an idiot...”

“But it’s not your fault,” Mingi told him, turning away from the scene of the crime for a moment to reassure the artist. “That avian should never have broken in and stolen such a priceless treasure in the first place.”

“Well, technically, one could argue that he didn’t actually steal it,” Yunho muttered from behind them. At Mingi’s quirked eyebrow he rushed to defend himself. “I’m just saying, it’s always been debated whether to try to enforce our wing-clipping laws and get the species to die out or to give them back their creed and send them off to Celestia, where they won’t bother us anymore.”

“Sure, but that’s assuming Celestia is real...” Mingi pointed out, engaging his partner in a typical argument about the controversial topic.

And it was true, avian debate had been a fixture of current politics for years upon years ever since the option to remove wings had become available, but the intensity of the Celestian zealots had been unknown to Seonghwa until tonight.

Letting them go up to this reported avian paradise was just as risky as letting them continue to breed. They could easily unite in stronger numbers, whether the city was real or not, and start a war over what they claimed to be their stolen land. At least that’s what the news reporters and textbooks always said.

Recognising there was nothing more to be done, Seonghwa collected his supplies and let Mingi and Yunho walk him out. Just when he was ready to leave the incident behind, locking the grand doors behind him, he turned and spied a few bloodied feathers on the museum steps.

Shakily, he knelt down and picked one up, simultaneously fascinated and disgusted.

As he turned it this way and that in the moonlight, the tinted strands caught and refracted the light beams, giving off a mesmerising multicoloured glow until it was thrust in the shade, where it appeared a pale grey.

“Is that the accomplice’s?” Mingi asked in excitement, taking the feather when it was handed to him and twirling it around. “So lightweight! Strange that it almost looks more like butterfly wings.”

“We’ll take this back to the office,” Yunho decided, collecting any more that could be salvaged from the blood pool and putting them in a plastic bag. “It might help us track him down.”

“What will you do with Yeosang?” Seonghwa found himself asking as they stood with him at the bus stop. He told himself he was just making small talk. “The avian you caught,” he quickly explained when the two looked confused by the name.

“Well, it’s always a long process,” Mingi sighed, hesitant to divulge matters of the secret police. “But let’s just say we’ll get all the information we need out of him, and then most likely his wings will be clipped so he won’t be a threat anymore.”

“You’ll release him after that?” Seonghwa asked quietly, not even sure why he cared. He certainly didn’t want that monster back on the streets.

“Maybe,” Yunho concluded. “It will depend on our superiors.”

“Well, I wish you luck,” Seonghwa concluded as the bus pulled up to the shelter and opened its doors. “Thank you for everything back there.”

It had been life or death for a fragment of a second.

Yunho smiled kindly and handed him a card. “It was our pleasure. Call us if you need anything else, and if you find any other avians at large.”

The last line was said lightheartedly, more of a jab at Seonghwa’s eagerness to please than anything else, but it kept him thinking on the bus ride home.

How many more avians were in on this whole operation? And what were they planning on doing with the Golden Book?

He didn’t play any music through his headphones that night, the rushing thoughts in his mind were already enough.

The usually welcoming atmosphere of home was tainted when Seonghwa looked up at their street-facing window on the fourth floor and instead of the familiar sight of Wooyoung and San making faces or obscene gestures at him, he saw only the outside pane smeared with blood.

His heartbeat quickened again and he nearly dropped everything and ran for the entrance, stepping in yet another spot of blood on the sidewalk and almost slipping.

Seonghwa’s hands shook so hard it took him twice as long to buzz in and race up the stairs. The elevator hadn’t worked since the winter.

Fearing the worst while also not allowing himself to imagine it, Seonghwa burst through the door breathlessly and yelled, “Wooyoung! San! Where are you?”

“Here?” San answered tentatively from the kitchen, where he stood caught off guard in his pajamas with a glass of water.

Seonghwa dropped his supplies on the couch and rushed over, a cry of relief caught in his throat. “And Wooyoung—?”

“ _ Who _ is yelling?” Wooyoung’s voice came from the back hallway, where he appeared just as disheveled as San and with a grumpy pout attached to his face.

“I was so scared,” Seonghwa confessed, sinking onto the sofa next to his things. “There was an attack at the museum on my way out, and there’s an avian on the loose now and I was just— I mean, I thought, because of the blood...  _ why _ is there blood everywhere?”

The last question came out as a terrified whisper, the strange stickiness underneath him sending him to his feet to look back down on the couch.

Another patch of blood.

_ “What is this?” _

And why was no one answering him?

“We... We forgot to clean it up,” Wooyoung admitted quietly, wringing his hands. “There wasn’t time.”

He was hiding something.

Seonghwa had known Wooyoung since they were kids, and pranks and arguments aside— if he was refusing to explain himself while something was  _ this _ serious— it was frighteningly bad.

A stern air overtook Seonghwa in his determination to get the truth out. San was also avoiding his eyes, so he stepped closer to him and lowered his voice.

“What happened while I was gone?”

Finally San looked up with a nervous gulp and glanced over at Wooyoung. The tension was suffocating for a whole ten seconds before San whispered ever so softly, “Please don’t be angry.”

Seonghwa felt frozen to the spot at the rawness in his voice but allowed the younger boy to take his hand and lead him to the bathroom, nudging open the door after a deep breath.

In the tub lay an unconscious avian, bloodied, wild, and  _ winged _ .

It was the accomplice.


	2. Secrets in the Bathtub

“Just hear me out.”

San closed the bathroom door as soon as Seonghwa had taken a good look and the shock began to melt away. There was no more chance of this being a prank.

“He crashed into our window,” San was already saying. “He fell four stories onto the sidewalk— he was  _ dying_, hyung. I couldn’t do nothing.”

“He’s an avian, San,” Seonghwa finally hissed, still at a loss for words. “That’s the one who was at the museum tonight. He and his companion stole something, they tried to kill me!”

“But if we turn him in, they’ll clip his wings!” San protested, gaining in volume. “It’s an inhumane procedure, you can’t possibly just sit by and allow—”

“I am  _ not _ harbouring a criminal,” Seonghwa interrupted, adamant on putting his foot down. He did not just walk away from the most terrifying experience of his life to walk right back into another one at home of all places. “I don’t care if he got shot, I’m calling the police.”

Wooyoung smacked the phone out of his hand as soon as it was out of his pocket and joined in the argument, albeit not as passionately as San.

“You know they’ll just let him die,” he appealed, cracking the door open so Seonghwa could peek again. “Look at him,even if they take him in he won’t make it in a prison cell. He needs help now, we can worry about turning him in later.”

“You’re worried about  _ him _ being in a prison cell?” Seonghwa scoffed in disbelief. “Wooyoung, you know the law! We’ll all be arrested!”

“Then so be it!” San yelled back, tears in his eyes. “How could you be so cruel?”

Not waiting for an answer, he hurried into the bathroom and knelt on the tile, propping the unconscious avian’s head up and trying to get some of the water in his glass down his throat.

“Please don’t call the Directorate,” Wooyoung begged quietly, clutching Seonghwa’s phone uncertainly. He looked like he wanted to give it back to him. “No harm will come from letting him stay the night. He can barely lift a finger, he’s not going to hurt anyone.”

Seonghwa’s shoulders dropped and he shook his head. They simply didn’t understand. It would have to take an ice cold knife to the throat and the fiery eyes of an avian for them to understand.

“Besides,” Wooyoung pressed on, walking into the kitchen and pulling a familiar satchel out of the cabinet. “We have whatever it is he stole.”

“He’s awake!” San called breathlessly from the doorway, completely ignoring Seonghwa’s presence. “Wooyoung, I need help.”

With a slight frown of apology, Wooyoung pocketed Seonghwa’s phone and moved inside the bathroom.

There was nothing else to do but sit, nauseated, at the table and watch the pair’s ministrations.

Things like jaywalking and watching movies on shady websites— those were laws they could get away with breaking. But this? Aiding and abetting a criminal whose very existence was forbidden?

They were in deep, and Seonghwa had to make them see how deep before they dug themselves deeper.

San gently ran the faucet over the familiar opaline feathers in an attempt to get the blood out, with such care and tenderness one would think he had known the avian prior.

The avian was actually of shorter stature but his wings were large and would probably be able to completely conceal him if they weren’t limp and draped over the lip of the bathtub.

Seonghwa didn’t mean to stare but he was still on edge, no matter how low of a threat the creature may be at the moment, his roommates were showing very little caution in caring for it.

When at last his wound was cleaned and the blood had been drained away, the avian sat up and turned his head.

At first he seemed a bit nervous, cramped into a small, unfamiliar space with strangers who were touching him, but the moment he spotted Seonghwa he was thrown into a total panic.

“Let me go!” He was screaming. “Let me go!”

“It’s alright, it’s alright!” San was trying to hold him down and calm him at the same time, with mixed results.

The avian had a moment of strength but tired quickly, all his thrashing around aggravating his wound even more.

“Easy,” Wooyoung soothed, bringing up a washcloth to stop the blood flowing again. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

Still upset, the avian lifted a shaking hand and pointed at Seonghwa through the wide open door. “You... You got Yeosang arrested. What more do you want?”

Seonghwa was affronted but a glare from Wooyoung closed his mouth before he could fire back.

Pursing his lips in thought, San shuffled to block the avian’s view and changed the topic of conversation. “How about some introductions? I’m San, this is Wooyoung. And that’s Seonghwa-hyung out there but he’s... he’s going to keep his distance, alright?”

There wasn’t really a better way to explain it, so San opted not to. “What’s your name, if you don’t mind?”

The avian’s gold eyes landed on him and searched for a moment before coming to a decision of some kind. “It’s Hongjoong. What happened and where is the Book?”

Immediately Seonghwa’s eyes flew over to the satchel where it lay on the kitchen counter, hoping his foolish roommates wouldn’t answer, but Wooyoung responded smoothly without missing a beat. “We’re hanging onto it for now. All San and I know for sure is that you somehow managed to fly straight into our apartment complex with a bullet in your wing. The sound startled us, so we looked outside and there you were passed out on the pavement, so... we decided to rescue you.”

“It was my decision mostly,” San jabbed. “Wooyoung just went along when I promised to have you in and out of here quickly, since you’re technically illegal and all. I’m not entirely sure what you’re up to with the Golden Book but can I just say what an honour it is to meet an avian in person—”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes and lowered his head onto the table. San was such an idiot, acting like avians were some type of ethereal deity blessing the world with their presence.

“I need the Book back,” Hongjoong insisted when San had stopped gushing over him. “I won’t trouble you anymore. Just give it to me and I’ll be off.”

“But you can’t fly!” San argued back. “Your wing is still damaged, and even if you have a secret avian doctor, I doubt you’ll get to them without collapsing, even if you walk.”

Hongjoong sighed and closed his eyes, letting his head rest back against the wall tiles. “You’ve done so much for me already, I don’t want to endanger you, and besides I don’t trust  _ him _ ,” again he nodded in Seonghwa’s direction, repeating his name as if to commit it to memory. “Seonghwa. Unless he’s undergone a miraculous change of heart in the last hour, I don’t doubt he’s already called the Directorate on me.”

Seonghwa bristled at this and shot to his feet but waited to see what his friends would do. The avian was actually correct, it would be better to send him off now if turning him in wasn’t an option.

Quietly and perhaps grudgingly, Wooyoung shook his head and pulled Seonghwa’s phone out of his pocket in demonstration. “We won’t let that happen.”

“You’ll choose this monster over your own friend?” Seonghwa spat out of utter frustration, moving into the already cluttered bathroom and noticing the way Hongjoong shrunk back.

“It’s not like that,” San insisted, standing and pushing Seonghwa back out. “Please just go to bed and leave him be. We can reassess in the morning if you’re so against having him here, does that sound fair?”

Seonghwa pulled away and nodded reluctantly but lingered for a moment. His glare was still locked on the flaming eyes of the avian, their golden tint betrayed by the spark of fear in them, like a wild animal cornered and wounded.

And that’s exactly what he was.

Knowing there was no changing San’s mind, Seonghwa strode back into the main living area and scooped up the satchel. He was guarding it and taking it back to the museum at the first chance he got and if the avian wanted it, he would have to pry it out of his hands himself.

Slamming the door to his bedroom and dropping the bag on his bed, he angrily went about changing for the night while the sound of San’s bustling chatter came through the door.

“You can sleep in my bed tonight and I’ll share with Wooyoung. We both fit in his anyway. And let’s get you into some new clothes. What size are you? You know, you might fit into mine or Wooyoung’s. I don’t think it’d be wise to ask Seonghwa. He might be a size too big for you anyway. How old are you exactly? You look around our age but I don’t know if avians age the same...”

Once his voice had drifted away and the sounds of the pair helping Hongjoong to his makeshift room had faded, Seonghwa sat and carefully pulled the book out of the satchel.

It was a shame to be handling it without the proper materials, but whatever was in this book was precious enough for not one but two avians to risk their lives for it, and that meant it was worth looking into.

Much of the script was in a language he couldn’t read but it seemed whoever had procured it for the library had made notes, so Seonghwa surveyed them and gradually the pieces of the puzzle began to come together.

There was a gorgeous illustration of what he presumed was the avian refuge, Celestia, long columns stretching up past the clouds and all its twinkling palaces comprised of the same gold hue that tinted each avian’s eyes.

The caption confirmed his assumption and explained that this mythical city was said to be located north and hidden away so that only an avian could find it.

Seonghwa took that to mean you had to fly to get there.

The next page detailed the creed, the code that most avians— and especially the purists— were said to abide by. It consisted of both laws and prophecy, regulations on how wings were to be treated and maintained listed alongside verses that claimed the race would reclaim their floating city.

Seonghwa knew the history, but he only really knew his side of it.

Avians had founded most of the cities in the north, including his, but humans had outgrown them in terms of technology and society’s advancement. Eventually fighting broke out, and when the guns and bombs of the humans overpowered the wings and spears of the avians a couple hundred years ago, the breed was given a merciful choice; clip their wings or die.

At least, Seonghwa had always thought it was merciful. The chance to practically become a human instead of a walking target, no longer weighed down by glimmering feathers and outdated rules, was the chance of a lifetime.

But some avians chose neither and took a different path entirely. They went underground and hid amongst humankind, managing to disguise their wings by retracting them and wearing coloured contacts. Despite being systematically hunted down, they managed to evade and secretly worked to restore themselves to their former glory.

Their weakness was their lack of unity. Many avians attacked out of revenge, some ran away to the out-lands, and some, like Yeosang and Hongjoong, stole artefacts and relics. Until having this book in his hands, Seonghwa had never been sure why.

A map tucked in between gold leaf pages marked out the way to Celestia. Seonghwa squinted at it in amazement and tried to find fault with it but it seemed to be completely real.

_ If that place exists _ _,_ he thought to himself.  _Then all those avians who escaped must be living there... And the rebels must be making their way back_.

A knock at the door shook him out of his brooding.

“Come in,” he called softly after shoving the book under his pillow to remove any evidence of his reading it.

If it was Hongjoong, he was prepared to deck him but it didn’t seem likely that it would be.

Wooyoung poked his head in and fished Seonghwa’s phone out of his pocket, taking a deep breath and holding it out to him.

“I’m going to trust you with this, but please don’t try anything. We’ve made Hongjoong a promise and that includes you, whether you like it or not.”

Seonghwa took it and placed it on his bedside table pointedly. As soon as Wooyoung was satisfied, he turned to go, but Seonghwa stopped him with a quiet reminder.

“At least tell me no one else saw. The neighbours could still report us, then it won’t even matter what I think.”

“No one saw,” Wooyoung answered, turning around and plastering on his most honest expression. “There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

As soon as he left, Seonghwa lay back and felt the outline of the book underneath the pillow. His mind ran in circles around it and he couldn’t get to sleep for a long time.

No matter what he did he couldn’t get the question out of his head.

_ Why shouldn’t the avians be allowed to leave? _

Seonghwa awoke to a furiously growling stomach. For a moment he forgot all about the avian sleeping just across the hall from him and focused on shoving food into his mouth to satiate the hunger that had been building since yesterday.

Some of his print orders lay on the table where he sat alone eating breakfast, and he ought to run them to the post office to get them sent...

The hallway floorboard creaking jolted him out of it, and ignoring the building tension he watched San shuffle across the living room and into the kitchen. He prepared two plates of breakfast, presumably one of them was to bring Hongjoong, but the way he suddenly froze and grabbed his side after reaching up into a cabinet gave Seonghwa pause.

“Are you alright?” He asked gently, half-wishing they could just put aside this whole avian nonsense and go back to being the little family they were before.

San turned around and coughed nervously, a red blush growing on his cheeks. “Fine!” He told him quickly. “Just sore from... working out after class...”

But Seonghwa knew when he was being lied to and wasn’t letting it go that easily. Before San could sneak off, he swiftly approached and lifted a fistful of his shirt only to find a bruise blooming on the flesh.

“Hyung!” San protested, embarrassed, but Seonghwa had seen what he needed to.

That bruise was distinctly wing shaped.

“He hurt you?” Seonghwa growled protectively. San shook his head adamantly but tears sprung to his eyes and Seonghwa knew his answer when his shoulders dropped in admission.

It must have happened when they found him on the sidewalk and brought him in, which meant San had been hiding it all this time.

Hongjoong had hurt him. If he’d been at full strength, he might’ve killed him.

“That’s it,” he snapped, striding back to his room. “I’m calling the police.”

“It was just an accident, hyung!” San yelled after him, tripping over the table and crashing to the ground in an attempt to stop him. “He thought he was being kidnapped!”

But it was too late, Seonghwa had dialled the number Yunho gave him and the phone was pressed to his face.

“Hello?” His familiar voice said.

“Yes, it’s Seonghwa,” he began, crossing the hall and cracking open San’s bedroom door to check that the avian hadn’t snuck out during the night.

There he lay, looking almost human with his wings retracted and his dark hair mussed from sleep.

Seonghwa’s lips moved before he could stop himself.

“I’ve found the runaway avian.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more of the world and our characters’ motives has been revealed! The action will pick up a lot more next chapter so do stick around and sorry again if there’s any mistake- it’s not beta read and written in only a few hours 😬


	3. The Defence Directorate

The yells and pounding of fists on the door did little to deter Seonghwa as he finished his phone call. He had locked himself in San’s room with the avian and his phone.

Just like back at the museum, he would hold him until help arrived, even if it endangered him.

All of San’s protesting caused the winged warrior to stir, his wings instinctively sprouting out in defence against the human in the room as he scrambled back into the farthest corner of the bed.

He awoke just as Seonghwa hung up, and didn’t appear to know what he had just done.

Seonghwa didn’t dare move, the sneaking feeling of his own guilt beginning to creep up his throat as Hongjoong gave him that look again, the guarded one that couldn’t help but let a spark of vulnerability through.

“Good morning,” he said quietly, wings dropping slightly, the left one struggling around its tender wound. There was a great deal of hesitation in his voice but he was polite.

Seonghwa didn’t answer and instead surveyed the room. 

One of his paintings was on the desk. The one with the flock of birds flying over the ocean, and a distant avian watching them from above the clouds. He had painted it one night in a flash of inspiration and loved it too much to sell it to anyone.

Seonghwa glanced at Hongjoong in confusion, wondering why it had been brought out, and the avian chuckled and rubbed his neck.

“San showed me your art,” he explained simply. Seonghwa began to wonder what else San had done last night. Hongjoong was looking at him curiously. “Why do you paint avians?”

Seonghwa was so stunned it took him a good minute to think of a response. “Well, I always... always liked fantasy and the ancient winged warriors seemed like part of that.” Why was he even answering him?

Hongjoong’s face darkened, whether out of displeasure or memory, he couldn’t tell. “The Directorate would have you believe we’re happy to have our wings clipped,” he pointed out. “I assumed you would agree... but you depict our pain.”

“I-I don’t know, it just seemed representative of the old stories but that’s all they are,” he insisted, still flustered but set on defending himself. “It just... happened.”

He waited to be called a hypocrite. That’s what he was, come to think of it. To marvel at the old fantastical tales and still despise the avians he met in modern times.

But Hongjoong didn’t need to say anythingelse to him. He could tell he was fighting with himself and silently observed it, still perched on the bed like Seonghwa might attack him at any moment.

He suddenly regretted calling Yunho. 

While he stood there in a daze, Hongjoong finally demanded answers from him.

“Was it avian-associated trauma? Is that why you hate my people so much? Or are you jealous, is that the reason?”

“I don’t know why,” he admitted softly, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden. “That’s what scares me the most. That everything I grew up believing... could be completely wrong.”

Before Hongjoong could say anything else,Seonghwa turned away and opened the door for a still yelling San. Wooyoung had joined him, most likely also unable to sleep in with all the ruckus in the hallway.

Both drew up and waited for the confession.

“They’re on their way.”

“Hyung!” Wooyoung moaned in exasperation. “I thought we agreed to—”

“You said to wait until morning, and I did,” Seonghwa cut him off hotly. “You said we could turn him in later, so we have. Why are you so adamant in making this crisis go on longer?”

But there was no fire in it.

A gasp from Hongjoong made Seonghwa turn around. He didn’t have to, he didn’t owe this avian anything, but he nodded at the questioning gaze despite himself.

“You- You called them? But you promised—”

He cut himself off and Seonghwa could tell it was because he’d been told never to trust a human and that was just what he had gone and done.

His mistake.

Seonghwa couldn’t bring himself to do anything when Hongjoong suddenly spun around and threw the window open.

“No!” San screamed, and he and Wooyoung pushed past Seonghwa to pull the avian away before he injured himself further, sitting him on the bed and trying to calm him while avoiding his wings.

It was like they had a mind of their own.

“You’ll never make it, there’s no point in trying,” Seonghwa sighed, closing the window and catching his reflection in the glass.

He had two choices. To help this avian was unspeakable but to let him die... Seonghwa had a feeling it would haunt him for the rest of his life.

And so he turned to face the creature and tilted his head towards the door.

“I know where you can hide.”

The entire (albeit short) walk across the hall to the storage closet, San spent singing Seonghwa’s praises and thanking him profusely.

“When they get here I’ll say you broke in and hid in the bathroom last night but flew off,” Seonghwa decided, ignoring every instinct inside that screamed at him to get a grip. “I don’t know if they’ll come in or not, but try to stay hidden.”

Hongjoong parted his lips as if to say something but closed them and obeyed. San moved a few boxes out of the way while Wooyoung fetched a blanket and Seonghwa paced the living room, sweaty hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants.

Distantly he wondered if catching an avian and harbouring one cancelled each other out in the eyes of the law.

By the time a knock came at the door, Wooyoung and San had joined him at the breakfast table, trying to act natural despite the underlying dread.

Seonghwa opened the door with a lopsided smile and delivered the practiced line when Jongho asked him where the avian was, flanked by his two fellow squad members.

“Unfortunately, I wasn’t as successful as last night,” he sighed as convincingly as he could manage. That part of the story was true, depending on how one looked at it. “He’s not here anymore.”

“You won’t mind if we look around?” Jongho asked briskly, all business as usual. “Just to get any sort of idea where he’s headed.”

Seonghwa opened the door wider and shrugged, though the churning of his stomach nearly immobilised him.

“We have to make sure you aren’t being held hostage,” Mingi murmured as they made their way in, armed and ready in case the avian did fly out of the shadows and attack them.

“These are my roommates Wooyoung and San,” Seonghwa announced, wringing his hands together to disguise their shaking. “They’re finishing their studies at the university, where I graduated from last year.”

“Really!” Yunho chirped in excitement, his radiant face a stark contrast to his dangerous attire. “We must be the same year then, and Mingi, too. It’s our final semester but we’re interning with the Directorate.”

“Let’s focus,” Jongho cut in sharply and turned back to Seonghwa. “Where was he and how did he get away?”

Seonghwa forced back a swallow and began to move toward the bathroom, wondering what Jongho’s story was and how he ended up a squad leader at such a young age.

Motioning at the still present bloodstains in the bathtub, he let Jongho kneel down and inspect it for himself.

“You think he intended to wash the evidence away but didn’t get around to it?” The officer asked.

“Absolutely,” Seonghwa agreed, sticking to the story. “Terrified me when I walked in to brush my teeth this morning. But as soon as I went and got my phone to call you, he must’ve slipped out the window. Ironic that he chose my place, huh?”

Jongho hummed in acknowledgement and went about collecting feathers again so Seonghwa turned to check what Mingi and Yunho were up to.

The redhead had taken a seat and accepted a cup of coffee from Wooyoung, but Yunho was looking around dutifully, headed straight for the storage closet.

Seonghwa’s heart jolted into his throat, but all he could do was make a panicked face at San and hope he would handle it.

“Yunho, right?” San interrupted the search louder than necessary, smoothly sitting the agent down and chattering about college and career paths as easily as if he was talking to a friend.

Jongho rejoined them, securing the evidence in a plastic bag again, but declined coffee. “It might interest you to know about the avian Yeosang— his wings are scheduled to be clipped in a few weeks,” he reported, so casually it almost went under Seonghwa’s radar before he choked on his coffee and furrowed his brow, bewildered.

“We thought about gifting them to the museum as a thank you for your help bringing him in,” Jongho went on with a smirk. So he  _ could _ smile occasionally.

“Oh that won’t be necessary,” Seonghwa laughed awkwardly, beginning to feel sick.

“Well, let us know if you change your mind. You caught him so his wings are yours to decide what to do with, the council approves.”

Seonghwa blinked in surprise at the development but stood to hospitably bid his guests farewell just as an idea struck him and, insane as it was, the fiery blaze of Hongjoong’s infuriated eyes somewhere in the back of his head spurred him on.

“Actually, I’ve been commissioned to sculpt the new centrepiece for the museum’s main hall,” he reminded the trio shyly. “I don’t have anyone to model as the avian, and it might be insane to ask, but since I helped catch Yeosang...”

“Would we release him to model for you?” Jongho finished knowingly.

“That sounds like an excellent idea!” Wooyoung backed him up immediately. San caught on as well and joined in, then even Mingi and Yunho began to nod agreeably while Jongho remained silent, lingering on the idea and its potential consequences for a moment.

Seonghwa held his breath.

If he was refused, he could at least say he tried. Hongjoong would be upset, but he’d have to let it go.

“His wings are yours to decide what to do with,” Jongho finally repeated, the tone of his voice impossible to decipher. “You can come with us now to get him but it would be best to send him back when your sculpture is done.”

Seonghwa thanked him readily and grabbed his bag before following them out. There was no time to say anything to San and Wooyoung or even to consult Hongjoong, but Seonghwa knew in his gut this was what the injured avian would beg him for.

To bring Yeosang safely home.

Trusting San and Wooyoung not to make a mess of things at the apartment, he made small talk to the officers while he rode to the Directorate in their car and then tried to wait patiently in the lobby while the long release process went on behind closed doors.

It was an old avian-built building coincidentally, the golden trim beautifully interwoven into designs that coated the mirrors and marble white walls. Something about it was relaxing, and the time went by faster than expected.

The captured avian looked worse for wear when he was brought out, though his wings were retracted, and Seonghwa could feel his stormy eyes fixed on him while he signed off on the paperwork that would free him.

“Call if he gives you any trouble. He  _ should _ be thankful for the opportunity,” Jongho instructed, growling through his teeth in warning at the prisoner.

Yeosang said nothing while his bonds were removed but followed Seonghwa silently to the bus stop and rode with him about half the trip before opening his mouth.

“Why are you doing this?”

The low snarl of his voice caught Seonghwa off guard and he clutched his backpack closer before scoffing and shaking his head.

If only he knew.

“Your friend is at my apartment. I figured he’d want to see you again.”

“So I won’t have to be your muse?” Yeosang muttered. “That was just a cover up?”

“Well, I mean, it would actually be good if you could—”

“You’re not in a position to make demands,” Yeosang hissed, mindful of the few sleepy commuters who had chosen to ride the bus that Saturday morning.

Seonghwa could feel the phantom pressure of a knife at his neck again and shrunk into his seat. Perhaps he had made a mistake.

They passed the rest of the trip in silence, but the moment Seonghwa opened the door, Hongjoong was there in a flash, pulling Yeosang into his arms and holding him tightly.

Seonghwa watched from the doorway in a strange sort of trance, like he could barely move without the weight of the world falling on him.

San and Wooyoung hung back at the table to give them space as well, a half eaten plate of breakfast Seonghwa assumed was Hongjoong’s laying there where they had been waiting.

“You’re hurt,” Yeosang gasped as he remembered, pulling back and examining his companion’s wing, but Hongjoong simply guided his hands away.

“It doesn’t matter, as long as you’re alright. Celestia needs you.”

There was a cold chill that went up Seonghwa’s back when he heard the words, and Yeosang sobered too, slowly easing into a chair at the table and shaking his head.

“My escape is provisional,” he reminded them. “If I leave the city, the Directorate will know. You have to get there on your own.”

Hongjoong refused immediately, sitting down across from Yeosang and taking his hands.

“I can’t do this without you. You’re who our people rallied behind— you’re who  _ I _ rallied behind. If they clip your wings I don’t know how I’ll go on.”

“They may clip them yet,” Yeosang whispered, unfolding the pure white wings and gazing at them forlornly. “I’m only here on borrowed time.”

Again, Hongjoong met eyes with Seonghwa, the maker of all their problems.

He had looked at him with fear, and with betrayal— but the anger he saved for the Directorate. Now he seemed to be deep in thought, and Seonghwa was mixed up with those thoughts.

He may have tried to undo the harm he’d caused, but he could tell the story wouldn’t end there.

Yeosang followed his gaze and his face turned to stone when Seonghwa entered his sight.

“It was  _ you _ who got us into this mess.”

“He did what he thought was right,” Wooyoung sighed. Seonghwa had almost forgotten he was there, but approached the table contritely. 

He had come this far, and there was no going back.

“I’ll help you.”

All of them had picked up on his distress earlier, but now that it was out in the air, the atmosphere shifted. It was a wobbly, uncertain change of heart slowly taking place in front of them.

“You can make this right,” San told him softly with a hand on his shoulder rubbing gentle circles, something he’d learned from Seonghwa no doubt.

Together they all looked to Hongjoong for the next move.

“I’ll need my book,” he started, and Seonghwa resisted the urge to correct him. It was technically museum property as of now. “But... I’m not sure I can go alone.”

“I’ll come with you,” San volunteered quickly. “You’ll need help with your wing still healing.”

“I’ll come too,” Seonghwa added against his better judgment. There was no way he was passing up the opportunity to find the location of the mythical avian paradise. 

Hongjoong’s golden eyes flitted up and down his figure again, as if trying to figure out whether he could trust him with this quest.

“But what about your agreement with Jongho?” Wooyoung broke in. “You said you’d be sculpting Yeosang, I think the Directorate will know if you break your word.”

“It’s just over a day’s journey,” Hongjoong pointed out as San slid the Golden Book to him. He must have found it under Seonghwa’s pillow. “If the three of us go, San and Seonghwa will make it back by Monday. You can sculpt Yeosang then,” he suggested.

Seonghwa agreed to it but looked to Yeosang for approval. “When I’m finished, I’ll do my best to help you get out of town, but I can’t promise anything. And Wooyoung, it’d be best for you to stay here with him while we’re gone. You might need to make use of the storage closet again.”

When all five of them were decided on the plan, they split up to gather their things. Seonghwa was fast and efficient and while the others packed, he stood preparing some meals in case they went very far off road. It fell to him to think ahead, but he was used to that sort of thing.

While he worked he couldn’t help but overhear the avians conversing together quietly, their long history evident from how they communicated with as few words as they did. Occasionally they would slip into another language, one that sounded like a dialect Seonghwa recognised but smoother and more enchanting.

Just like everything they did.

The two creatures spent a great deal of time caring for their wings and inspecting each other’s. It was like the majestic feathered limbs were entities unto themselves, each avian having a relationship with his wings that was incomprehensible to anyone else.

Hongjoong had difficulty walking and balancing, but his wound had improved incredibly well for such a short period of time, it made Seonghwa wonder if super healing ability was included in their magical qualities.

“You can’t fly,” Yeosang was murmuring. “You’ll have to hope you improve by the time you reach the river. Stretch your wings every few hours, it’s not good for them to be retracted so long.”

Hongjoong accepted the instructions but still seemed uneasy about something. “Yeosang, they’re expecting  you at Celestia, not a dark-winged initiate like me.”

“They’ll have to learn to accept you,” Yeosang muttered with a hint of bitterness. Strange that it was apparently directed at his own people. “At any rate, you’re better off there than in this city.”

“You know, Hongjoong is your age,” San’s voice was suddenly in Seonghwa’s ear, making him jump in surprise and almost drop the sandwich he was wrapping. 

“You scared me,” he huffed, securing the food and letting San continue his gossip. 

“And Yeosang is our age— Wooyoung and I— so isn’t it strange how they interact? Almost like there’s a hierarchy that makes Yeosang a superior... maybe it has to do with their wings...”

As a student who was researching avian anthropology, San found Hongjoong to be a constant source of information for him. He didn’t hold the same contempt for their kind that his professors and classmates did, but his passion had never gotten him in so much trouble until now.

“Alright, alright,” Seonghwa put a stop to the rambling and shouldered his bag. “Save it for the road.”

It was predictably difficult to separate the avians from each other and all they could do was let them press their foreheads together for a moment and pry themselves away. 

Wooyoung pulled each of his roommates into a tight hug and promised to keep an eye on Yeosang. “If anyone asks me, you and San are out researching.”

It was somewhat true.

The walk downstairs and to the bus stop was contemplative but rife with anticipation.

Somehow in less than a day Seonghwa had gone from doing more to stop avians than any average citizen to sneaking out with them in broad daylight to return them to their homeland.

“Do you have the Book?” Hongjoong asked. “I’ll need it when we reach the city limits.”

San patted his own pack in answer. “It’s right here. If you don’t mind, I’d like to look through it. That’s not forbidden, is it?”

“No,” Hongjoong sighed in regret. “I suppose it’s only fair. We also need to stop by the safe-house first for my spare weapons.”

Seonghwa was tempted to refuse. This trip was turning into a full fledged quest but there was no other choice now than to let the avian lead the way.

“Do you anticipate needing to use them?” He stammered, afraid he had chosen his side prematurely. All these second thoughts and misgivings would be the end of him.

“An avian should always be ready,” Hongjoong answered calmly as the bus pulled up.

He needed help getting into a seat, so grudgingly Seonghwa supported him. It would be a long and uncomfortable trip this way, but he would do what he could.

He owed Hongjoong that much.

As the bus pulled away, the engine of a car parked just a few spaces behind fired up.

Silently and undetected, it followed them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow so this is a long one and I had to be extra sure before posting because there’s Quite a bit of new information, so sorry for the delay! And as usual, expect more tomorrow :) thanks for reading!


	4. To the Nest

Seonghwa couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched while they crossed the street to a nondescript antique shop. The bus moved on from where it had dropped them and there were only a few parked cars in the area, no pedestrians who could be spying on them.

Forcing himself to move on, Seonghwa focused on helping hold Hongjoong up while San held the door open for them.

Again, he was completely out of his depth and likely would be for the rest of this adventure... if he could even call it that.

“This place is spooky,” San whispered as he took the avian’s weight again, eyeing the strange little mementos and smelly decaying furniture. “ _ This _ is your safe-house?”

Hongjoong didn’t answer, but rung the bell at the front desk and waited for the owner to appear. A woman of tall stature with an intense look in her golden eyes walked out to the desk and took stock of them with distrust, but due to their association with Hongjoong, allowed them into the back room silently.

Shrugging off San’s hands, the avian shuffled ahead and began pulling a pearl-studded harp out of its place while the humans looked around the space like tourists. San realised what he was doing and went to help him but Seonghwa was still too enthralled with the decor of the room.

That harp was one that a famous artist had made a painting of almost fifty years ago... and the rocking chair in the corner, that was the one Lee Seungyeon had done her self-portrait in...

Suddenly it struck Seonghwa that she must have been an avian. And the harp must have belonged to an avian, too. All the mirrors and clocks and tea sets, the rugs and chairs and bookcases— these weren’t on sale like the things in the front of the shop, they were stashed away in the hidden avian room as keepsakes.

“These all belonged to the museum,” he insisted quietly, and Hongjoong turned from where his fingers had only just brushed the wall panel to push open a secret door.

“The museum stole them from avians. They belong here... for now.”

With nothing else to say, he ducked through the short tunnel and San eagerly followed him, Seonghwa cautiously bringing up the rear.

The moment he entered, his breath was snatched away.

It was what Seonghwa imagined the inside of a tree looked like, a microcosm of wooden panels, beautifully carved beams crossing each other in the high ceiling and delicate frosted glass windows lining the hall to create an ethereal glow.

He was struck speechless and stood there gaping for a moment until San pulled him along.

There were several other avians milling about the armoury, wings extended freely among friends, something they could never do in public, but they eyed the intruding humans with suspicion.

Seonghwa had never seen so many in one place before, certainly not with their feathers on full display, and as much as the sight of the large white, silver, and even golden wings made him uneasy, the familiarity with which Hongjoong was currently handling a bow and arrows made him even more nervous.

He had thrown open an entire chest of weapons and seemed to be inspecting them and deciding what to bring. Settling on his bow, a few small daggers, and a quiver loaded up with regular steel tipped arrows and some nasty looking explosive ones, he looked satisfied and turned back to the exit.

“You have a bow?” San practically screeched in excitement. “You’re like Cupid!”

“More like Icarus,” Seonghwa muttered, holding his hands up in defence when the other two stopped and stared at him for explanation. “Because you fell out of the sky, remember?”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes and led the way into the back of the shop again. “San was exaggerating about my wounds. I’ve fallen many times, it’s normal for fledglings.”

But he didn’t look like a fledgling anymore to Seonghwa. His wings were just as large as any of the other avians, only strange in colour. “Did you only grow your wings recently?” He found himself asking in tentative curiosity.

Hongjoong turned on him angrily. “It’s none of your business,” he snapped. “But if you must know, I’ve had them just as long as anyone else but that doesn’t mean I have much practice. City living when the whole world hates you doesn’t exactly allow for much flying.”

Seonghwa didn’t respond but hung back a moment to absorb Hongjoong’s bitterness over the question. It seemed flight was a sensitive issue, but then how could it be otherwise, when only a shrinking percent of the population had wings in the first place.

The owner took note of what Hongjoong was bringing when he returned to her desk to bid farewell. There was no need for him to say where he was going.

“You travel light,” she remarked enigmatically. Like many avians, cold and professional without giving any indication of her opinion on the matter.

“I don’t intend for much fighting,” Hongjoong explained with a soft smile. Seonghwa hadn’t really seen him smile like that before. “I’ll send word when the path is cleared and hopefully Yeosang can join me. Everyone’s waiting for him.”

It sounded to Seonghwa like the rumours were correct. Like the avians were planning on attacking the city as soon as they were gathered at Celestia.

The woman procured a set of car keys and handed them to him. “Take the truck, it’ll get you farther,” she instructed. “It’s parked across the street.”

He said something to her in another language, presumably thank you, and headed for the door, taking San’s arm.

Instead of crossing the street to claim the vehicle, Hongjoong walked them a few doors down to a diner. “I know you packed food,” he told Seonghwa, sliding into the seat across from him. “But it would be best to save it for dinner.”

Seonghwa didn’t care enough to argue and instead ordered his lunch and tried to start up a conversation with San.

If he believed hard enough, it was just a normal day going out to eat with his roommate.

But of course a few minutes after their food arrived, San had to address Hongjoong.

“Sorry if the question is too intrusive, but there were so few avians at that safe-house, I couldn’t help but wonder; are there not many of you left?”

Hongjoong flinched and then slowly lowered his spoon into his bowl. It took him a moment, either to decide whether to divulge or to work through the traumatic stress, but eventually he looked up at them and simply said, “Yes. Those that have not had their wings clipped or managed to escape to Celestia mostly lay low and live out their lives as best they can. We haven’t all given up hope though,” his voice gained strength and he pushed away his food, glancing up at them with determination in his eyes. “The crossing is dangerous but now that I have the Book, it’s at least possible.”

And all of a sudden the spell broke and he rose from his seat. “I’m off to the restroom. Order pie if you want, I’m paying.”

San tried to protest of course and his wallet was halfway out of his pocket before Hongjoong walked away but it was no use.

“Just let him,” Seonghwa sighed as he finished his food. “He’s trying to pay you back for breakfast.”

Soon they were on the road, with Hongjoong driving the truck, Seonghwa in the seat next to him, and San stretched out like a cat in the backseat. When the first fifteen minutes had gone by in silence and the city had slowly blended into suburbs, he fished out his cell phone and made a call to Wooyoung.

“How is everything going?”

“It’s alright,” Wooyoung’s voice sighed through the speaker. “I tried cooking braised chicken for lunch but I don’t think Yeosang likes it.”

Seonghwa felt relief wash over him as he listened to Wooyoung’s childish complaints. The picky appetite of the avian they were illegally hosting was the least of their problems.

“He’s just messing with you,” Hongjoong called back, glancing into the rear view mirror. “Yeosang loves spicy chicken.”

“Well, he’ll just have to eat it then,” Wooyoung huffed, voice becoming muffled for a second as he directed it toward Yeosang. “I’m not making anything else and most of the leftovers have gone bad.”

“This is why I tell you not to save food you won’t eat,” Seonghwa scolded, and for a little while he and Wooyoung bantered over the phone while San offered the occasional comment.

It was refreshing not to have to worry about the avian business that had come between them and while Hongjoong listened in on their lively conversation with a fond smile on his face, he didn’t interrupt anything and just let them enjoy a moment of normalcy.

“Well, I’d better go,” Wooyoung finally chirped. “I discovered Yeosang is a gamer so that should give us something else to keep us distracted while we wait for you. Tell Hongjoong to drive faster!”

As soon as he hung up, San noticed farmland outside his window and decided to pull out the Golden Book. “We’re close to the path, aren’t we?”

“Less than an hour now,” Hongjoong assured him gently. He and San smiled at each other through the mirror again and it was like the avian had ingratiated himself into the fold without saying a word.

It was remarkable, but it disquieted Seonghwa. San always trusted much too easily.

Just as his eyes had relaxed enough to droop and his head had lolled to the side for sleep, something in the mirror outside his window caught his gaze.

“Has that car been following us for long?” He mumbled sleepily.

Hongjoong looked at him with panic and then turned his head to check who it was.

“Seonghwa...” he said with a warning in his voice. “Those are your Directorate friends, with the blue hair and the red hair. Did you call them?”

Seonghwa blinked in confusion and turned to squint out the back window of the truck.

San was also amazed and mirrored him. “How did you... oh. Superior eyesight, too?”

“Did. You. Call. Them,” Hongjoong gritted out, his face darkening and his demeanour quickly turning angry.

“I didn’t, I swear!” Seonghwa yelled back, tossing his phone to San. “Here, go ahead and check. No recent calls.”

San took the phone but didn’t need to look at it to defend his hyung. “He wouldn’t have pointed them out if he called them. What are we going to do?”

Hongjoong seemed to be holding a breath for a moment as he bit his lip and eyed the enemies tailing them before suddenly speeding up and reaching for his quiver. “Take the wheel,” he said simply, letting go of it to nock an iron-tipped arrow.

“Wait!” Seonghwa screeched, grabbing the steering wheel and climbing into the seat before they drifted off road, but Hongjoong didn’t listen, instead pushing up the sunroof and standing on the back of the driver’s seat. “Are you insane? You can’t shoot them!”

“Watch me,” Hongjoong smirked, pulling back the bowstring and taking aim.

In a last ditch effort to stop him from hurting the officers, Seonghwa yanked the wheel to the right, driving the truck off road and sending the arrow bouncing harmlessly off the grass.

Hongjoong wobbled where he was standing and San screamed from where he was tossed around the backseat, but Seonghwa kept them hurtling through the tall grass and prayed to whoever would listen that Yunho and Mingi wouldn’t follow.

Instead, a bullet ricocheted off the truck bed and San screamed again, “Are they shooting at us?”

Hongjoong growled angrily and pulled another arrow out of his quiver, having it nocked and drawn in seconds.

“Don’t hurt them, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa pleaded, trying to find something to convince him. “If you start violence with humans, it’ll never end.”

There was a pause and it seemed like the avian had heard him, with only the crunch of the wheels over crop and the sound of San’s whimpering as he crouched on the floor in front of his seat to fill the silence.

Hongjoong leaned to the left to dodge another bullet that came flying at him but appeared to come to a decision and loosed the arrow, not at the driver’s side of the pursuing vehicle, but at its front wheels.

The arrow landed faithfully and popped the tire, but the sudden change in direction caused the car to skid around and slam into the truck, startling Seonghwa into stopping and sending Hongjoong falling out of the sunroof.

To stop himself from hitting the ground so hard, he extended his wings but went rolling through the grasses and briefly lost consciousness.

Seonghwa threw open the door and ran to him, afraid for one terrifying moment Hongjoong had cracked his head in the landing and lay there dead, but remembered his words about falling frequently and watched him carefully sit up, small bloody wounds haphazardly strewn across him but otherwise in good condition.

Hongjoong retracted his wings so as not to draw the attention of the officers, who still hadn’t left their vehicle, and began to pat around for his bow.

“Found it!” He exclaimed with relief, getting to his knees and clutching it close.

But they still had to get back to the truck. San had kicked the door open for them and beckoned them in with a shaky wave, but Yunho and Mingi were now awake and alert, sliding out of their steaming car to check the damage.

“We’ll have to be quick,” Seonghwa whispered, pulling Hongjoong along as he crawled on his belly through the field, grass getting stuck in his mouth and dirt smearing the front of his shirt.

“No! Into the woods while they’re distracted,” Hongjoong grunted, grabbing him by the hand and turning him around. “Our destination is just beyond them.”

Seonghwa turned and looked. The trees were tall and dark and he couldn’t see beyond them, but the alternative was the road they’d just skidded off of, and there was no turning back.

He waved back to San and motioned for him to join them instead. The younger man frowned in confusion for a moment before glancing down at the Golden Book and realising where they were.

It was time for the hard part of their journey.

Quickly he collected their bags and the key to the truck and crawled out to meet them. They’d have to leave the vehicle there.

“We sprint for the tree line,” Hongjoong insisted, pocketing the keys and slinging on his bag next to his quiver. “They won’t dare follow us.”

And with his words, it was decided.

Seonghwa took a shaky breath and ran, hand still clutching Hongjoong’s, who he couldn’t bring himself to let go of.

Just as the avian had said, the officers didn’t follow them, only pulling off the occasional halfhearted shot that landed nowhere near them. They were probably reluctant to put humans in the crossfire.

With every step, Seonghwa felt more and more out of place, but Hongjoong led him along faithfully, avoiding every twig and thorny branch in his way, so Seonghwa and San followed him step-for-step, especially as the sun dipped lower.

It had been over an hour and there was no sign of Mingi and Yunho, so Hongjoong finally allowed them to set up camp for the night, though he took it upon himself to climb a tree and stand guard while the others made a fire and rolled out their sleeping bags.

“Come, eat,” San called up to him softly. It felt wrong to raise his voice in such a sacred feeling place.

Hongjoong came and sat, completely lost in thought while he chewed on the sandwich San handed him.

Concerned about his earlier fall, San couldn’t help but reach out and touch the cut on his face.

When the avian flinched in surprise, he pulled his hand back but unzipped his bag and took out a first aid kit.

“Does it hurt?” Seonghwa found himself asking as he watched San dab some antiseptic onto a wipe.

For a moment he thought Hongjoong hadn’t heard, but those golden eyes found his again and there was an indignant glint in them this time, the flames of the fire pit reflected in them.

“I told you, I’ve fallen many times before. I’m not your Icarus.”

His wings were dark shadows behind him, and in this wild place, he seemed more wild too.

San gave Seonghwa a warning look and wiped the blood off the avian’s face as soon as he let him.

“Just because you get up, doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt,” Seonghwa countered under his breath, but all of them heard it.

It was a truth he’d learned well.

Exhaustion overtook him quickly once he’d finished his food, and he lay down and closed his eyes while the other two spoke in hushed voices on the other side of the fire.

San had calmed down considerably but from the way Hongjoong was whispering, it seemed he was still upset.

“I’m still not sure I can trust him. If he learns the way to Celestia, what’s to stop him from returning with his Directorate friends?”

So they were talking about him.

San gave an exasperated sigh and the sound of empty food wrappings being packed away stopped.

“They aren’t his  _ friends,  _ he just didn’t want you to shoot them. There’s a big difference,” he chuckled at himself before realising Hongjoong wasn’t laughing and sobering up. “Seonghwa won’t tell them where your refuge is. He’s great at keeping secrets.”

“Really?” Hongjoong snapped, and the rustling of his feathers made Seonghwa’s heart stutter in fear. He wouldn’t strike San, would he? “Because he’s not so great at keeping promises.”

There was another pause while San repositioned himself before he lowered his voice and made Seonghwa strain his ears to catch it.

“Usually he’s so selfless, Hongjoong,” San insisted. “He’d buy us coffee every morning to help us get through class last year. He takes us on shopping trips to distract us when we’re stressed about exams. And he’s the best hugger- Wooyoung and I both agree- when you need comfort of any kind for any reason, no questions asked.”

Seonghwa blinked away tears but they were already rolling down his face.

“But I’m the exception,” Hongjoong muttered in response, and he sounded hurt by it. “I can see he’s changing his mind about our kind, but he could betray me on a whim right now, that’s how uncertain he is, and it would destroy everything I’ve ever hoped for if he did. You have to understand that.”

San took a shaky breath and hummed in agreement. There was a beat before he ventured a question he’d clearly been wanting to ask for awhile.

“When we get to your city and the rest of your... kind... what are you planning to do? With the weapons, the Book, the recovered artefacts?”

“That remains to be seen,” Hongjoong answered vaguely. “I’m in no position to decide, I do what I’m told.”

But this raised another question.

“You said they’re expecting Yeosang- is that because he’s been there before? Is he your prince or-or your military leader?”

A beat.

“You see these wings?” And there was the rustling sound again. “They’re dark, and very rare. For thousands of years there has been infighting among our kind over whether dark-wings are true avians or not. By now there aren’t many left, but you can be assured those of us that are will never ascend to a position of power in the flock. Yeosang, however, is the perfect candidate. He’s white-winged, young but from a noble line, passionate about the cause, and capable when it comes to executing it. It’s only because he brought me with him that I’m even welcome in Celestia at all.”

“Oh, Hongjoong, it must be so lonely,” San whined sympathetically. There was his bleeding heart again.

“It was until Yeosang recruited me,” Hongjoong admitted through his choked up throat. “But I’m just hoping the current flock leaders won’t be angry it’s me instead of him. He’ll be along soon... he has to.”

“If your people do decide to storm the city,” San told him in a scared whisper. “I hope you’ll be able to convince everyone to make peace, when the time is right. All of this hatred has to end for you to be able to live your life without being hunted or chased away.”

Rejected by both worlds, but somehow a mediator between them?

It sounded far fetched to Seonghwa, but his tired brain was struggling to process any of this avian hierarchy business, and eventually he let himself drift to sleep.

In his dreams, the trees burned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took a bit longer but I’m satisfied enough with this one to post it. I hope it’s enjoyed! See you tomorrow and thanks for reading :)


	5. Celestia

It wasn’t fire but water that rained down on Seonghwa a couple of hours or so after midnight.

The shock of it had him waking up suddenly and jumping at the loud noises of the thunderstorm. Their camp was already under trees, but there wasn’t much else they could do without a tent to keep themselves from getting wet.

The fire was a lost cause but the Book and food were all safe, and presumably Hongjoong’s weapons as well. As he sat up to check that they were indeed undamaged, he was surprised to notice that Hongjoong wasn’t in the spot where he’d been last night.

The panic that he had been abandoned in unfamiliar woods didn’t have a chance to set in before the rain suddenly stopped falling on his head and he looked up to see why.

It was a wing. Hongjoong was shielding him and San from the rain, one on each side of him, while the cold water dripped from his dark hair and down his nose.

He was as still as a statue, and Seonghwa had a sudden urge to paint him.

Without a word, he lowered himself back down and shuffled closer. Their little huddle was a warm shelter from the rain, and for once Seonghwa was happy to have an avian with them.

He’d slap himself for snuggling with one tomorrow, but for now he was happy to sleep, dry and peaceful, the rest of the night. No one else was there to scold him for it.

Seonghwa opened his eyes to San’s sleeping face and mess of hair when the sun filtered in through leafy branches.

Hongjoong was a few paces off, stretching his wings and practicing with his bow. Seonghwa was tempted to make a comment about the early bird getting the worm but thought better of it and went searching in his bag for some breakfast food.

It was awkward with only him and Hongjoong being awake, neither acknowledging the other’s presence but simply going about their work while San continued to snore from his bed.

But it was a different kind of awkward than it had been back at the apartment.

This place was like a no man’s land, and Seonghwa didn’t feel pressured to keep his distance from the avian like he did on his own turf.

“Do you think we’ll reach the city by noon?” Seonghwa asked as he worked on getting the fire going again.

“If we move quickly,” Hongjoong answered without looking at him, busy inspecting some knives.

“It’s just, I’ve only got enough food for maybe two meals, including breakfast,” Seonghwa grumbled. That part was his fault. “I might have to ask you to catch something with that bow of yours. You do know how to hunt, right?”

Hongjoong scoffed and threw the knives into a tree with deadly precision. Seonghwa gulped down a swallow.

_I guess that’s a yes._

“You’ll only need three portions of food for one meal, save the rest for your return,” he explained as he went to retrieve the blades embedded in bark. “You can’t go past the river.”

Seonghwa crossed his arms indignantly and sat back. Of course he had known that, as humans, he and San couldn’t reach Celestia. But he didn’t like the idea of travelling back home with just the two of them. How would he know if Hongjoong had been successful in rallying the white-winged avians?

But then again, why did he care?

San finally sat up and rubbed his eyes, mumbling some apology at having slept in and then quieting when Seonghwa handed him breakfast.

Hongjoong was still busy securing his weapons, so Seonghwa approached him with a bowl of food, holding out his arm but staying as far away from the wings as he could.

They were much scarier looking in the day, all stretched out and glinting with blue, then purple, then gold as they moved this way and that, catching the firelight.

Like dangerous butterfly wings.

“Here,” he grunted to get the avian’s attention.

Hongjoong turned and pulled his wings closer to his body obligingly, taking the bowl and following Seonghwa to the campfire.

For a warrior, his hands were surprisingly soft.

The avian ate quickly while thumbing through the Golden Book, occasionally making a noise of agreement at something he read and stopping on the map to Celestia to plot out their route.

“You should call Wooyoung,” Seonghwa suggested in San’s direction. “If Mingi and Yunho were here, the Directorate is probably onto our plan. He and Yeosang might be in danger.”

San’s eyes widened in alarm and he shoved the rest of his food into his mouth before hurrying to his bed to find his cell phone.

“I don’t have service out here!” San called back to them, an edge of panic to his voice.

Seonghwa stood and rounded on the avian where he sat looking through his book, oblivious.

“They could be in danger, Hongjoong! We have to go back—”

“There is no going back,” Hongjoong interrupted, standing and packing away the Book. “We continue up the mountain on foot.”

Seonghwa wanted to argue this time, to convince him to at least get within range of satellites so they could warn their friends, Yeosang included, but Hongjoong had shouldered his bag and was already walking on.

Haltingly and clearly with his mind a thousand miles away, San packed his things and began to follow him up the hill.

All Seonghwa could do was watch him helplessly and gather the rest of his belongings, putting out the fire and hurrying after them.

He would not be left out here alone.

Seonghwa had been unsure when Hongjoong said mountain whether he simply meant a large hill or a steep, unsafe, high off the ground  _ mountain _ .

It turned out to be the latter.

“W-Wait up,” he stammered, sinking into a sitting position against the rock face behind him as he spotted a large drop with absolutely no railing on the other side of the path. “I can’t.”

Hongjoong and San paused up ahead and turned to see what the trouble was.

“What do you mean you can’t—”

“He’s afraid of heights,” San supplied, carefully making his way back down to him and offering an arm. “Come on, hyung, just hold on to me, you won’t even notice.”

Seonghwa closed his eyes and shook his head, beginning to feel nauseous. “No, San, I-I can’t see the end, I don’t want you to be so close to the edge...” he pulled the younger boy closer to make sure he wasn’t in danger of slipping. “I can’t move at all.”

Suddenly Hongjoong was there too and without any words his wings again covered Seonghwa’s face.

All he could hear was his own laboured breathing and the gentle wind that sung through the trees.

“Is that better?” Hongjoong’s voice asked softly.

Seonghwa simply nodded, still clutching San’s hand, and followed him up to the summit.

“Would you like to see?” Hongjoong invited again, and with San supporting him from behind Seonghwa felt confident enough to say “Yes.”

He hadn’t seen anything in several minutes, it would be nice to orient himself.

When the feathers were removed, his breath was snatched away.

There was the river below them, rushing along gracefully and winding though the land, and just beyond lay more trees, an even denser and darker wood, that thickened and peaked into an incredibly tall tree which became the foundation of what Seonghwa assumed was the secret city.

From the branches, columns were extended into the sky and from those columns were platforms and from those platforms were hallways and balconies and palaces and altogether it was the most stunning thing Seonghwa had ever seen.

It went up so high it was mostly concealed by a cloud, and from so far away it looked quiet and serene but Seonghwa had no doubt it was bustling with life. It looked so beautifully enticing he was ready to walk off the ledge where he stood if only he could fly there and see it for himself.

“No further.”

Hongjoong’s voice brought him back to reality and, remembering how high up he was, Seonghwa reached for his arm and clung to it.

“Y-You...” he cleared his throat and tried again, louder. “You have to let me draw it. Just one sketch, before we go.”

“Seonghwa—”

“I’ll never see it again!” Seonghwa cried back. “It’s only fair.”

Hongjoong glanced down at where the human was gripping his arm and slowly sunk to the ground, bringing Seonghwa with him. They both knew it was the reason he’d come.

“Alright,” he acquiesced. “Be as quick as you can. I need to stretch my wings anyway.”

“But you’re still healing, I mean... You don’t intend to fly down from this height?” San laughed nervously, eyes widening when he realised Hongjoong was serious. “Hongjoong, it could kill you! I don’t care how many times you’ve fallen before, this is suicide!”

Hongjoong pried himself away and turned back to give his wings a few test flaps.

Seonghwa let San do the business of trying to talk him out of it and focused on his frantic drawing. By looking at the paradise, he wanted to convey every detail but forced himself to start small and build the piece with structure first.

It was so peaceful there, just the three of them and the distant utopia with the natural bliss of a wide and secluded forest around them. The sketch quickly took shape and when it was finished, Hongjoong came over to look at it and nod approvingly.

“Here,” he passed them the car keys and the Golden Book. “You might need these to get home.”

San was shaking his head as he received them and tears had sprung to his eyes. “Don’t do it,” he sobbed. “I can’t bring you back this time if you fall.”

Hongjoong took him by the shoulders and pressed their foreheads together, just as he had with Yeosang. “It will be alright,” he murmured. “Trust.”

Seonghwa could only watch what happened, holding his breath. Hongjoong gave him a nod of acknowledgment and walked back a few paces to get himself a running start.

San came up beside Seonghwa and clutched his hand, ready to burrow into his jacket and look away at a moment’s notice.

But Seonghwa looked on as Hongjoong ran off the cliffside and his wings sprouted out behind him right at the last second. For one nail-biting moment he fell, hurtling down the mountain at terrifying speed, but his wings caught the wind soon enough and he glided back up into the air and continued to climb.

Seonghwa’s heart began soaring with him as he rose higher and higher, letting out a whoop of pure delight before he disappeared above the clouds.

San was laughing in relief and shook Seonghwa from side to side excitedly before facing him and wiping the tears off his face. “He did it! Look at him, he’s flying!”

Every few seconds the avian would appear before the mist covered him again, but the glint of sunlight off of his distant wings was entrancing and Seonghwa couldn’t look away, excited to see where he’d emerge next.

Eventually he tilted up into the clouds and didn’t come back down for awhile. Seonghwa wondered where he had gone until a strange feeling made the hairs on his neck stand up and he turned around.

Somehow Hongjoong was behind him and just as his devilish laugh reached Seonghwa’s ears, he was snatched up and lifted into the air.

“No, no!” He tried to protest but the wind stole his words. “I’m afraid of heights!”

Hongjoong laughed again and carried him higher, and Seonghwa forced his eyes open and let himself experience flight.

Any questions he had about why Hongjoong was doing this completely faded away as he watched the water flowing below them and the multitude of trees dotting the hills.

“I can’t take you there,” Hongjoong told him as he set his eyes on Celestia. It still looked so close yet so far. “But I can show you  _ this _ .”

As he thrust them higher, twisting acrobatically in the air, Seonghwa turned to slip his arms around his neck and take in the view above them.

Clouds as far as the eye could see, and the stunning view of piercing rays of sunlight breaking through them and glowing through Hongjoong’s magnificent wings.

There was a wetness on Seonghwa’s face, but he didn’t dare let go to rub the tears off his cheeks so he just basked in that moment of complete and utter wonder at the winged world he had never even begun to imagine in his ordinary life, so small by comparison. 

How could he ever have advocated to take  _ this _ away from the avians?

Soon they were headed back to earth and Hongjoong landed them a bit roughly on the bank of the river, rolling in the grass and giggling elatedly as he turned to check that Seonghwa was fine, too.

He gave him the biggest smile while laying there in the grass beside him, and Seonghwa finally saw through him. This was the real Hongjoong.

This was who he could be all the time, if the world gave him a chance.

The avian sat up and brushed off the dirt, offering Seonghwa a hand and pulling him to his feet.

“Did you like it?”

Seonghwa’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he could articulate the feeling. “It was... it was exhilarating. I wish I could do it every day, I wish  _ you _ could do it when you wanted to.” He knew he was rambling but felt he owed Hongjoong an apology. “I-I don’t know how anyone could even consider clipping wings as an option. I’m so sorry I ever did. I can’t even begin to tell you.”

“If only one flight could change the world,” Hongjoong shrugged as his smile softened into a bittersweet farewell. “But now I think it’s time for us to—”

“No, please,” Seonghwa begged him. It was finally happening. After so long wanting the avian gone, the chance had finally come, and now Seonghwa didn’t want to be parted. “Please take me with you. I can’t go back now after all I’ve seen, I just can’t.”

Hongjoong regarded him so softly it broke his heart. Even to imagine those eyes once directed toward him with fear and betrayal nested in them was painful.

“Now isn’t the time,” the avian reminded him, readjusting his bag and quiver before pulling him forward and resting his forehead against his own. To Seonghwa, it was an honour. “Go home, make sure your friends are safe. Maybe one day we’ll meet again.”

He flew off into the mist and took a piece of Seonghwa’s heart with him.

That walk across the bridge and back into the woods was lonely and gave Seonghwa a little too much time with his thoughts.

In just a couple of days he had travelled to what felt like the other side of the world where all his problems and conflicts were meaningless. Would returning home bring all that confusion back? Would it bring his old self back?

Seonghwa didn’t want to be his old self anymore. Avians were so much like them, and yet the ways in which they were different made them special, not repulsive.

Maybe Seonghwa had known all along, and his art was just his slow journey to realisation of the fact, one that had sped up significantly on meeting Yeosang and Hongjoong that night and culminated in his own flight into the unknown.

The trees weren’t so scary anymore, and the sky looked wide open and full of possibilities.

If only he’d enjoyed his time here instead of squandering it in prejudice and self pity.

“Hyung!” San’s voice reached him from behind the trees up ahead.

“San?”

He jogged toward the sound but stopped in his tracks at what he saw.

Yunho and Mingi, one on either side of a captive San with all the bags in his arms.

They each had a tight grip on him and it was clear to Seonghwa what would happen if he didn’t cooperate.

“Where is the avian?” Mingi asked, his voice much harsher and colder than it had been last time they spoke.

“In Celestia,” Seonghwa panted, barking out a crazed laugh. “You’ll never catch him. He’s with his people.”

Unafraid of the consequences, he waved them forward and pointed up at the great nest on the horizon, a city perched on a tree and swarming with avians.

“You see their numbers,” Yunho pointed out, exasperation evident in his voice as he tried to understand why Seonghwa was betraying them. “You  _ know _ what they could do to us if they chose to attack.”

“Then we deserve it!” Seonghwa screamed suddenly, turning on the officer angrily. “We deserve it for what we did to them. They’ve worked tirelessly just to get to this point, just to survive. Look up there and  _ tell me _ you don’t see a world worth protecting.”

It was terrifying, yes, but it was awe-inspiring too. It was indescribable in its beauty and greatness and all Seonghwa could do was  _ show them _ how wrong they were. How wrong  _ he _ was.

San smiled proudly at him, noticing how the grip on him gradually reduced its strength.

“San was just ahead of the curve, as usual,” Seonghwa sighed. “If you’re good people, I know you’ll walk away and pretend you saw nothing. Or, even better, you’ll convince Jongho to call off this manhunt. Let the avians be. We took the rest of their cities, let them have this one.”

Eyes shining, Yunho dropped his gun. Seconds later, Mingi followed suit. “Alright,” the latter said shakily. “We need to talk.”

Seonghwa broke into a smile as San pulled out the keys to the truck. “Why don’t you join us for lunch?”

...

Monday morning was a headache, but then again, that was normal in Seonghwa’s apartment.

Wooyoung and Yeosang had spent the past two nights at the avian safe-house, thankfully a decision Wooyoung made Saturday afternoon when he had pulled off his gaming headset and looked out the window long enough to notice Jongho’s car parked outside.

They had slipped out through the garage entrance and Yeosang had led the way. Fearing repercussions, the avian had set out for Celestia from there, much to Wooyoung’s disappointment.

Not much else had changed in the day San and Seonghwa spent back, except that Yunho and Mingi were regularly texting him now about anything and everything that crossed their minds.

The four of them had had a nice long chat at the diner when they made it back out of the woods, and Seonghwa had confirmed with great pleasure that their actions in front of Celestia hadn’t been a ruse at all.

He’d gotten a feeling back at the museum that Yunho was uncertain in his mission to hunt and exterminate aviankind and wherever Yunho went, Mingi followed.

Jongho was now their biggest obstacle, but the officers were sure they could persuade him at least to drop Yeosang’s charges if not go to the council himself and make a case for peace.

It would be the reopening of a large, festering wound in the political scene, but everything had built to this single jumping off point and it only felt right to take advantage of their momentum.

Seonghwa had spent the drive back and the day after sketching and painting and reading the Golden Book for as long as he’d have it.

He got the distinct feeling Hongjoong had wanted him to read the truths in its pages when he gave it to them, and San told him at breakfast he was sure he’d be back for it and to return the clothes he’d loaned him but Seonghwa suspected it would be quite some time before that happened.

Jongho had evidently figured out Seonghwa’s plan concerning Yeosang, so there was no need to bring him along to finish the sculpture for show and endanger him further. Besides, he was long gone, safe in Celestia if things had gone well. Seonghwa wasn’t sure the refuge city had cell service, but Yeosang had been there before, so Seonghwa trusted he had made it without incident.

If Jongho tried anything, he’d have half a dozen texts alerting him to it.

On his way to work, Seonghwa couldn’t stop thinking about how happy Hongjoong would be to have Yeosang back earlier than expected.

It was a quiet and contemplative atmosphere again as he squatted in the basement with the familiar tunes of his playlist around him and finished the wings of the avian.

Naturally it had started to look like Yeosang, even without him there to model for it, but the wings...

The wings were more like Hongjoong’s.

It twisted his stomach to see them crushed under the foot of the human soldier he’d sculpted, despite it being of his own making.

No, the real Hongjoong’s wings were thankfully intact. And a good thing too, because an avian mourned the loss of wings like a death had occurred.

Seonghwa would just as soon destroy the piece and sculpt a scene of avians and humans living peacefully, or maybe a replica of Celestia with a giant tree to take up the space, or maybe a massive painting instead of the sky from a couple hundred feet in the air.

But he could worry about that later.

There were so many possibilities now that Seonghwa reflected on them.

Even the Golden Book that had sat in its case untouched for generations was much better off in the hands of the avians it had been stolen from.

He packed away his supplies as the day came to a close, still yearning for a place and a people he had hardly known, and brought the Book back to its case.

The glass had been cleaned up some time ago and the empty stand beckoned for its golden display, for things to be made right.

But Seonghwa refused to put it there. Maybe Yeosang and Hongjoong would come back and steal it.

He shoved the book into his bag and walked outside onto the museum steps. He’d wait as long as he needed to.

Seonghwa could imagine avians soaring through the night sky with the light of the stars reflected on their wings. It was the future he was imagining.

He was part of the revolution now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww yes all good things must come to an end (and I’m so so bad at ending things) but I hope you enjoyed and especially Kayla whose present this fic was! Happy New Year and here’s to a better 2021!!
> 
> Go ahead and comment your headcanons of what happens next if you want ;) Much love as always <3 ttyl


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